


moments on the road

by vannral



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunkenness, End of the World, Endearments, Established Relationship, Ficlet Collection, Friendship, Goodbyes, Kissing, M/M, Morning Kisses, Parenthood, Public Display of Affection, Reunions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-05-05 03:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14608593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vannral/pseuds/vannral
Summary: A collection of different kind of kisses and moments between Fjord and Caleb during their adventure and after it.





	1. morning kisses

**Author's Note:**

> I like writing short fics so this is the result of that and my love for Critical Role. The chapter count isn't final, probably it goes up, but 20 seems like reasonable at this point.   
> Thank you for reading! ( ´∀`) ♡

 It’s a rather chilly morning in the camp. The pale yellow light crawls over the horizon, and white mist rises on the fields they are camping on.

Caleb has slept rather well, although his joints ache from cold, his breathing frosts white, and he estimates his brain power is working steadily somewhere at 48 %.

Isn’t that just fantastic, then. To his foggy brain, coffee sounds quite magnificent at the moment, that much he’s managed to figure out.

Mollymauk, Beau and Fjord are already up, sitting by the camp fire.

Caleb sways up to his feet, blinking sleepily from the bundle of blankets, and without really focusing what he’s doing, he approaches them and leans to press his lips on Fjord’s hair.

     “ _Guten Morgen, Schatz,”_ he murmurs, before slumping by the fire next to him.

Silence.

     “Um, excuse me?” Mollymauk sounds positively _gleeful._ “Did that just happen?”

     “It fucking _did!”_ Beau crows back, and looks way too smug that early, in Caleb’s opinion.  

He flushes bright pink and snorts a little grumpily. “Oh, get off, both of you. Why are you making such a big deal out of it? It is not a big deal.”

     “Oh, I dunno,” Fjord intervenes, his rough voice sounding amused. “I definitely think it’s kinda a big deal.”

     “You - are not really being helpful, you know, _Fjord_.”

Fjord’s amber eyes glint with good-natured mischief. “Yeah? Well, now, I think ‘m bein’ mighty helpful.”

Caleb narrows his eyes at him, but he’s too tired to actually glare - and Fjord yanks him back to kiss his temple. “Good mornin’ to you, too, darlin’,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing gently across Caleb’s nape.  

     “...fine. Mind giving me that coffee?”

     “Got some bacon for you, too.”

     “Mmh, thank you.”

Mollymauk and Beau, who are observing this exchange with wide, smug grins, do a little fist-bump.

     “Can I just say, this is so adorable that my teeth are hurting,” Mollymauk says.

     “Yeah, I mean, fucking syrupy shit. Ugh. And first in the morning, what _is this?”_

     “It’s not a new thing, you just have not been paying enough attention,” Caleb points out without looking up as Fjord fills his cup with coffee. “ _Danke.”_

     “Not a problem. C’mon, you two, let it go already.”

     “Why? This is so interesting! We saw a deer before, so this is wildly more engaging.”

     “Yep, breakfast with a show,” Beau adds with a sharp smile and winks at Caleb, who is _so_ not impressed.  

     “Kindly fuck off,” he says, deadpan and sips his coffee and very much ignoring _them._

     “Can’t be that lucky always, hon,” Fjord shrugs, but his lips twitch into a smile. 

     “I can wish.”

     “Oh, stop that, you love us.”

     “Yeah, fuck you, too, Caleb!”

Another morning at the camp.  

+


	2. goodnight kisses

The campfire crackles, spits red embers and it’s warmth soaks into Caleb’s skin.

It’s comforting, familiar. He can smell the smoke, the dry, cracking wood.

He can hear the chatter around the camp, Jester’s giggles, Beau’s lazy drawl as she vividly demonstrates one of her jobs - Caleb is not sure if it’s actually a job or a hook-up, it’s sometimes hard to know with Beau - and Mollymauk makes fun of her, although in a gently teasing kind of way.

The whole day’s activities have drained him, his eyelids feel heavy, but he’s so _cosy,_ relaxed in the fire’s light. He can’t even drag his attention back to a heavy, leather-bound book in his lap.

He hears clothes rustling, and a familiar figure steps over the big log he’s sitting on and sits beside him.

     “Hey, you’re dead on your feet. You there?” Fjord’s deep, comforting baritone calms Caleb, and with a sleepy hum, he leans against Fjord’s shoulder.

It’s taken so long, _so very long_ to accept such intimacy, to accept that he’s allowed, that he’s safe, and Fjord absolutely revels in it, every single time it happens.

     “Mmh, _ja.”_

     “Ya eaten already? There’s still left some.”

Caleb opens his eye to fix an unimpressed look on him. “ _Ja._ I did.”

     “Sorry, just gotta ask. What’cha doin’?”

     “Well, I _am_ trying to read, but my eyes are not cooperating with me.”

Fjord snorts with amusement, his golden eyes softening. “Yeah? How ‘bout you get some fuckin’ sleep already, how about that?”

     “Why, getting rid of me so soon? I am hurt.”

Utterly charmed Fjord raises his eyebrow at him. “Well now, _darlin’,_ are you insinuating I’ve got some sorta ulterior motive to get you to have some shut-eye?” he teases him gently.

Caleb laughs. He’s been doing that a lot lately. He’s decided it’s a very good thing.

     “You know, you are being very insufferable.”

     “Yep, that’s me. Me ‘n my sailor charm, that right there.”

     “One can never know with you, you with your several accents and whatnot,” Caleb murmurs, amused and gathers his parchments and books, carefully organising them to his liking, and Fjord keeps an eye on everything. “But fine. Frankly, I am exhausted. So...”

Clumsily, he leans in to kiss Fjord. It’s chaste, just a brush of lips, and Fjord _melts_ into it.

     “I won’t be long, I’ll join ya in a minute,” he grunts, his voice a bit deeper.

     “Mmh. I’ll leave Frumpkin with you.”

     “Thanks.”

It’s hard to be subtle in a group like theirs, but by gods, they have tried. Fjord sleeps next to Caleb now, and usually during the night they end up back against chest, limbs tangled and drawing each other’s warmth into them like it’s second nature.

Others, of course, find it _hilarious._

(Caleb does not.)

And sure enough, soon Fjord follows him, gives Nott a polite nod and retreats to his bedroll by Caleb’s side. Caleb’s already giving into exhaustion, and he doesn’t even stir awake as Fjord settles on the ground.

He wraps his arm securely around Caleb’s waist, pulls him closer and hears Caleb’s sleepy murmur.

     “Shh, ‘s all right, it’s just me. Just go ahead ‘n pass out already.”

     “Do you need to turn on your other side?”

     “Nah, I’m good. C’mon, Cay, it’s okay.”

It takes just a bit of adjusting, but finally Caleb has nestled against Fjord, who just has to marvel this development. It’s taken time, _so much time and patience and support,_ until Caleb’s had the courage to accept this, to initiate this.

And Fjord will never take it for granted for as long as he lives.

Fjord combs gently Caleb’s hair back and presses a kiss on his forehead.

     “Good night, darlin’, sleep tight.”

     “You, too, _Schatz.”_

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so shocked by the last episode. Like holy shit. I'm so worried about him, you guys. ;_; So fluff and cuteness.


	3. in secrecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might do another one with this prompt, I got some ideas.

They’re really not that subtle. Like holy shit.

They’ve danced around each other for a long, drawing each other close, pulling and _touching,_ complimenting and putting each other at ease _._ Soft smiles, shyness. It’s so _sappy._

Beau would obviously like to call bullshit on that, but the thing is, she’s getting distracted by the party around the bonfire.

They’re in some random town two days ride from Zadash, and she can’t be bothered to remember it’s name, but the point is that they helped with a problem, they saved people, they got paid, and now they can drink some _booze._

Mollymauk’s already entertaining people with fancy cardtricks and openly flirting, Nott seems to be considering who in the crowd looks condescending and rich enough to steal something, Jester is dancing with Yasha, who seems to be getting over her nerves - and yes, of course, Beau catches a glimpse of Caleb’s auburn head retreating from the lights to the shadows around the market place with Fjord.

_Of course,_ she thinks, rolling her eyes and orders another drink.

Fjord presses his hand on Caleb’s back. “Whoa, watch out for that - “

     “Which is _what,_ I can’t see that, whatever it is,” Caleb points out, wryly amused, but accepts Fjord’s help to maneuvre around some barrels to a secluded alleyway.

     “Oh, ‘s nothin’ - probably just coal. Can never know with these.”

     “Lovely. Oh, hello.”

Fjord’s gaze darkens, although it’s getting a bit hard for Caleb to see that. “Hi to yourself.”

Caleb closes the distance between them and kisses him. Re-acquainting themselves with each other’s bodies, slow and tentative, tongues meeting on the middle.

The heady burn of adrenaline has dimmed in their blood for a while now, and they’re just left with the overwhelming feeling of longing, relief.

Fjord pulls him close, his large, calloused hands pressing into his skin through clothes like brands, and Caleb relaxes into the touch.

     “You were gatherin’ some interest back there, hon.”

     “Did I? I did not notice.”

Fjord chuckles. “’Course you didn’t, nose in the book, like goddamn,” he murmurs affectionately and brushes his thumb across Caleb’s cheekbone, marvelling how Caleb just _leans_ into his palm, not unlike a cat, much for Fjord’s amusement.

     “I do not care for - for _that.”_ Fjord can see Caleb wrinkling his nose. “For people. Loud people, I’m sorry.”  

     “Yeah, I know, I know. Nicely done enduring it, anyway. ‘m proud of you.”

An embarrassed pause. “Well, then.”

He’s getting flustered, dull red flush spreading on his cheeks, to his ears, and it’s so _goddamn_ adorable. Fjord kisses Caleb again, in the safety of the dark, away from people and curious eyes and _whispers._

Just them.

The kiss gets heated, deeper, hungry and playful, Fjord nipping Caleb’s bottom lip.

     “Careful,” Caleb murmurs.

     “Shit, sorry. Growin’ them out, forgot for a bit.”

     “No, no, it’s okay. I don’t mind. At all.”

Well, ain’t that something. Fjord’s voice deepens an octave. “Yeah?”

     “Yes, well, we might explore that later. If you - do not mind.”

     “Oh, no, definitely not. C’mere.”

Caleb hums into their next kiss, resting his hands on Fjord’s chest. It’s easier, just them, in the dark.

+


	4. in public

It’s so _noisy._

People chattering and yelling, carriages rattling forward, rustle of clothing, music, animals making _so much noise._

Caleb’s head starts to ache, and his fingers twitch in his sleeves. Too much _noise._ His nerves flare, with everyone pressing so close, he just wants to get out of here and get some _quiet and privacy and alone._ He wades through the crowd, but even on the edge of the bustling market place, his relief is pretty much short-lived.

 _Eugh..._ He’s hot and tired and at the moment, he’s really not into shopping, at all.

Suddenly a rough hand grasps the back of his neck and squeezes gently. Caleb startles, before he realizes it’s _Fjord._ Instantly he relaxes, leans into the touch. It’s grounding him, makes him breathe deeper, easier, and the bustling is once again bearable.  

     “Y’okay?” he hears the familiar rumble near his ear.

     “Mhm.”

     “I mean, you were lookin’ kinda... twitchy.”

     “Oh, I was? Well, then, we can not have that.”

Fjord’s thumb brushes comforting patterns on Caleb’s neck. “Uh oh, I know that look. What’re you plotting?”

     “Well, now, I’m not plotting anything. But I was, in fact, hoping that perhaps you would kiss me?”

Caleb enjoys immensely the way Fjord falters, his jaw drops. “I - _really?”_

     “Really. Would you kiss me?” Caleb repeats calmly, amused.

Fjord stares at him - maybe trying to determine how serious Caleb is, but Caleb is always serious about kissing Fjord. Now that he can, that he’s allowed, _even encouraged (yes, what lunacy is this, caleb doesn’t even know)_ to do so, he _wants._

     “Okay, I will, in a minute, but seriously, you okay?” Fjord asks, concern lacing his deep baritone, and Caleb just pats him gently on the chest.

     “I am, but... distraction would be... welcome, _ja._ If - if you’re all right with that? You don’t have to - if you’re not comfortable - ”

     “Hey, now, don’t get all embarrassed on me, ‘s fine. _I’m_ more than fine with it.”

Caleb feels a pleasant, lovely shiver in his spine as he sees Fjord’s amber gaze darken.

     “Distract me a bit?” Caleb asks quietly, angling his head up to look at him in the eyes.

Fjord cradles Caleb’s nape so gently, tilts his head up. “Would be my absolute pleasure, darlin’,” he murmurs, his voice deepening, and he leans in to close the distance between them.

The kiss is slow, kind of silly. They are aware they are in public, but this is theirs, anyway.

He can feel Fjord grinning to the kiss, and that simple thing about all of this melts his heart.

     “What? Why are you smiling?” he asks, resting his forehead against Fjord’s.

     “Nothin’ much, just... thinkin’ how once upon a time I wouldn’t have done anythin’ like this.”

     “Really?”

     “Mmh-hmm. But right now, I don’t give a damn what some folks think.”

Fjord nudges him gently with his nose before stealing one more kiss.

An elderly lady who holds a basket full of potatoes pass them, but stops for a moment to squint at them - and just when Caleb tenses, she just nods in approval and crows: “You lucky lad.”

Fjord gawks, but Caleb nods. “Yes, I do know. Thank you.”

Still nodding, the lady waddles and disappears into the crowd.

     “Really? _Thank you?”_

     “Well, I do know I am lucky, so what, was I supposed to lie?” Caleb asks innocently and smiles, when Fjord leans in to kiss him again, this time, firm and less silly, but still just as safe.

+


	5. in parenthood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kisses as tired parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so self-indulgent, I'm not even sorry. I don't care that it's probably never gonna happen, you can try to pry this from my cold, dead hands :D

The first thing they wake up to that night is a suspicious _‘whoosh’_ sound.

At first, it doesn’t even really register in their sluggish brains.

Fjord is barely conscious and moves to bury his face into the warm crook of Caleb’s neck. The comforting scent of parchment, pine and clean soap makes him relax, hum contentment in the low of his throat.

Then, _CRASH._

It’s never a good sound to have in their household.

     “Has the fuckin’ sun even risen yet?” he grunts into Caleb’s skin and reaches to wrap his arm around Caleb’s waist, squeezing his hip a bit. “Hey, darlin’. You awake?”

     “Debatable,” is the sleepy answer, and slowly, the wizard forces himself to sit up. In the pale lantern light that they have on their porch casts a wet glow in Caleb’s blue eyes. “I’ll go.”

     “Nah, ‘m up already...”

     “Oh, these are your pants... catch.”

     “Thanks.”

They go to their ward’s room - their adoptive son in pretty much every way except paper work - and first thing they notice that Bert’s curtains are on fire.

They gawk at the destruction for a split second, and then -

     “Oh, _shit!”_ Fjord says and hurries to put them out.

Bert, himself, has hidden under his fort of blankets, where he stares at them, looking utterly miserable. Caleb kneels in front of their son and peers under the blankets.

     “Hello, _Mäuschen_ ,” he says softly. “Are you hurt?”

Bert sniffs. “N - no. I - I didn’t mean to, it was an accident, it went all _‘whooooosh’ -_ oh no _oo,_ I did _that - “_

     “It’s all right. I know you didn’t mean to,” Caleb says gently. “Do you want to come out of there?”

     “No!”

     “ _Klar._ Do you mind if I sit here?”

     “...n - no.”

Caleb sits next to the lump of blankets.

     “I know it was an accident,” he repeats and keeps an eye on Fjord, who rushes back with a bucket of water and dumps it all on the charred remains that used to be their curtains. “Magic is a funny thing, and unfortunately, it must be practised in order to control it.”

     “I - I’m not gonna do that again or h - hurt anyone if I practise?” Bert’s small voice asks under the embroidered hem.

_Oh, mein Kindchen..._

Caleb’s heart clenches with fierce, pure paternal love he has for Bert, like his chest is too small for everything he feels. _Love. Protectiveness._ _Pride._ This boy - their little sunshine whom they found on one of their journeys, thin and dirty and so, _so brave -_ means everything.

Bert peeks under the blanket, his bright eyes stare curiously at him.

      “Practise is never a bad thing, Bertie. But you are a smart lad, you will get the hang of it. Or if you don’t, that is fine, too. The main thing is we are here for you. No matter what.”

     “...even if I’m bad at it?” It comes out as a small, hesitant whisper.

     “Even then. You do not have to worry about that. Oh, thank you, Fjord.”

Fjord slumps on Bert’s other side. “Yeah, ‘course. Those were very impressive, buddy. You okay otherwise, didn’t burn yourself?”

Bert crawls under the lump of quilts and blankets and brushes his wet cheeks. “No. But, um, I ruined the curtains...” he says with a miserable grimace as his eyes drift back to the black, smoking mess on the floor.

     “We’ll get some new ones, no big deal,” Fjord says and pats Bert’s tousled hair back. “Hey. We’re not mad, just glad you’re not hurt. ‘s okay.”

     “But what if I really, really suck at it? Burn the - the house down? Really _hurt_ someone?”

Instinctively Fjord and Caleb share a quick look above Bert’s messy hair. Once, years and years ago, Caleb would’ve shut down, retreated into his shell, too raw, too scrubbed clean and hollow, too tormented by guilt, too ashamed, but now...

Things are different than that one time, years ago in Trostenwald.

_It’s okay._

_I love you._

_It’s gonna be okay._

_We can do this._

     “We’ll be here for you, every step of the way, Bert,” Fjord murmurs gently. “Yeah?”

Bert drags a shaky, painful breath inside and slowly, _slowly_ relaxes. “Okay.”

     “No one is excellent at anything immediately,” Caleb points out and clicks his tongue, and Frumpkin appears and burrows himself into Bert’s lap, purring loudly. “It’ll take time.”

     “I - “ Bert shifts again, his small brow furrowed in worry. “I - I don’t wanna fail.”

     “No one ever does, buddy,” Fjord says, resting his palm on Bert’s back. “But that way you’ll learn. ‘n that’s a good thing.” 

     “...okay.”

     “No one will think less of you if you fail,” Caleb adds. “We can try different things, see what suits you the best.”

There’s a beat of silence when Bert mulls this over in his head, scratching Frumpkin behind the ears. They let him think it through, and then, Fjord clears his throat. 

     “Okay, now that we’re all awake - anyone up for a midnight snack?”

Bert snaps out of it and his hand shoots up. “Me! Me!”   

And that’s how they end up in their cozy kitchen. Fjord lifts Bert up to sit on the wooden counter, and Caleb rummages through their pantry.

     “Can I do magic tricks? If I learn?” Bert asks curiously, swinging his legs back and forth.

     “Technically that already counted as a magic trick, sort of,” Caleb answers as he finds some fresh berries offers them to Bert and Fjord. Strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries. All sweet and tart from their own garden.

     “But, like - can I make coin tricks? Me ‘em disappear?” Bert insists before shoving handful of blueberries in his mouth.

     “Gonna put ‘em on fire, too, buddy?” Fjord teases with good-natured humor, and Bert’s eyes widen as he stops chewing and considers _that_ possibility.

     “Oooh! Fire coins! I could show those off at the market!”

‘Mayhem’ and ‘mischief’ appear to be present in their future, as far as his guardians are concerned.

Caleb is very careful not to look at Fjord. “I think Uncle Molly might be willing to teach you a trick or two. _Without_ the fire.”

     “Aww...”

     “Gods above,” Fjord mutters under his breath, probably envisioning how _that_ lesson will turn out, but it’s worked; Bert’s mostly over his embarrassment and shame, as he pets Frumpkin.

Frumpkin, himself, is not that excited about the sticky blueberry stains on his ginger fur, but he endures it very patiently. 

     “Can we start tomorrow?”

Fjord glances at Caleb. “I don’t see why not - what d’you say, Cay? We startin’ with the basics?”

     “ _Ja,_ basics sound reasonable, I think,” Caleb agrees, examining a plump strawberry between his fingers. “Small steps, Bertie, they will go a long way.”

     “Okay!” Bert beams back and stifles a yawn. He tries to hide it behind his sleeve, but it is unfortunate that he lives with an insomniac wizard and a very sharp-eyed half-orc, so neither of his guardians miss _that_. 

     “Okay, lil’ buddy, back to bed with you, c’mon.”

     “But ’m not sleepy.”

     “Someone’s lyin’, curtains on fire. C’mere, kiddo, up we go.”

Bert squints, but raises his arms and clings onto Fjord like a little monkey. He snuggles closer, pressing his head under Fjord’s chin, his breathing already slowing and deepening.

     “Fell asleep already,” Fjord snorts, amused and adjusts Bert on his hip with one arm.

     “Mhm. I think we can, maybe, use Airic’s field tomorrow for practise.”

     “Sure, better just watch out for his goddamn cattle. We’ll never hear the end of it if we accidentally fry one of ‘em.”

     “ _Accidentally._ I am keeping an eye on you, too. I have _not_ forgotten.”

     “Yeah, yeah, I’ll play nice, promise.”

They take Bert back upstairs, tuck him under the blue cotton blankets, brush some of the hair from his forehead. Frumpkin settles on the end of the bed, curled into a protective ball near Bert’s feet, his eyes glowing emerald in the dim light.

Back in their bedroom, Fjord wraps his arms around Caleb’s waist, pulling him close, burying his face into Caleb’s hair, pressing hot kisses down his throat. Caleb sighs softly, leaning against him, the hard muscle against his back. 

     “Fjord...it’s two o’clock,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side to allow more room for Fjord, who makes a low sound on the bare skin there.

     “I know, I know... humor me, just a moment, please?” 

Caleb turns easily in his arms, gaze back at Fjord’s darkened eyes. “You are incorrigible, you know,” he says softly, amused and leans in to kiss him.

Just a touch, then their exhaustion catches up; it’s slow, _tired,_ just trading kisses, tongues delving deeper with languid strokes, chasing that sweet taste of summer berries.

No hurry, no urgency. Just comfort and familiarity, shared closeness.

     “I think we handled that well, yeah?” Fjord murmurs, nuzzling Caleb’s cheekbone, up to his temple where his hair has curled against pillows.

     “I hope so. We will talk with him tomorrow if things are still bothering him.”

     “Sounds like a plan.” Fjord drags his large, hot hands down Caleb’s side to his waist, his thumb drawing comforting patterns on Caleb’s skin. “Now, c’mon, bed.”

     “I have to point out, I was already _going_ there but _someone_ decided _otherwise - “_ Caleb’s voice breaks into laughter as Fjord grabs him, raises an eyebrow in quiet challenge and drops him unceremoniously on the bed.

Caleb curls into the blankets, not quite unlike Frumpkin, and reaches for Fjord. It takes some adjusting, and finally they settle in together, limbs tangled, chest against back, just listening the cicadas outside.

The rest of the night goes without a hitch.

(later, they do end up setting one of Airic’s apple trees on fire. Accidentally.)

+


	6. in reunion

It’s a race against time, and Fjord can’t help but to think if this is how the rest of the Nein felt when he, Jester and Yasha were taken, once upon a time.

They swore it would never happen again.

But it did.

_They swore._

Caleb being kidnapped during an ambush, his _screams -_

So many things happening, and all Fjord’s felt during these couple of days has been despair, worry, fear. Just that painful knot in his throat. All bleak and hollow. What if they can’t find him in time.

 _What if he’s already_ \- _what if -_

But they find him, beaten and bruised, and Fjord doesn’t remember moving, doesn’t remember even breathing, _because it’s Caleb,_ alive and real -

 _He’s alive,_ and they’ve been dancing around each other for so long, looking and glancing and wanting and hesitating, but now -

Caleb has no intention of hesitating.

They crash into each other, and in that rush of adrenaline and hope and relief, their mouths meet in a harsh kiss. It’s desperate, all teeth and tongue, it tastes like tears and blood, but neither one of them cares.

Fjord grips Caleb as tightly as he can; he can feel the bones creaking under the soft material of Caleb’s undershirt, the thin hands clutching at Fjord’s armor - he feels the dry heaves, the tremor in his arms.

     “You came,” Caleb croaks, and his hoarse voice breaks. “You came here, you’re alive - “

     “Caleb, hey - hey, are you okay, look at me - “

But Caleb barely is; his breathing is too shallow and quick, his eyes are so very wide, wet, terrified and furious.

     “ _Nein - nein,_ you don’t understand - I would have understood, had you decided literally anything else,” he gasps and grips Fjord’s front like he’s afraid Fjord will leave. “I would have understood if you had left me behind - it was foolish and suicidal, I would have understood and - and it would’ve been _fine - “_

     “No, Caleb, listen to me - it’s never gonna happen,” Fjord growls and takes Caleb’s thin, pale face between his palms. “Leavin’ you behind ain’t an option. Ever.”

Caleb makes an awful, broken sound, and Fjord continues desperately: “You - you didn’t leave me. You didn’t leave _us._ There’s no way in hell I’d ever let you die a lonely and painful death somewhere by yourself. S’not _happening,_ not ever again _.”_

Caleb’s chest stops moving. He stares at Fjord, unblinking. “But i - it was my fault in the first place, the whole mess, I put the group in danger - “

     “ _No”,_ Fjord growls. “No. You didn’t. We were all distracted, you did what you thought was best and would get us out of there. Hey.”

His voice mellows into warm baritone rumble, and Caleb’s gaze instantly returns to him. “You were so brave, Caleb. And I mean that. You’ve got no damn idea how sorry I am you had to go through all that shit... fuck, that must’ve been fuckin’ terrifying.”

Caleb laughs weakly and slowly relaxes to brush his cheek against the callouses on Fjord’s palm. He breathes deeply, and Fjord is relieved to hear that. He shifts, wrapping his arms around him again, and Caleb melts into the touch, nuzzling closer like a cat.

     “Do you know you might be positively out of your mind, Fjord?” he murmurs into the leather of Fjord’s armor. It smells faintly of the sea, like in Nicodranas.

Fjord snorts. “Nah. But to be honest, I’m kinda down with that, if it keeps you breathing.”

     “ _Ja,_ well, breathing would be - very preferable,” Caleb leans in to rest their foreheads together. It’s just breathing, existing, they are both so very tired and they’re here. “Thank you. For finding me.”

Fjord’s eyes flare gold with warm affection. He can’t help himself and just brushes his finger on the fading freckles on Caleb’s skin.

     “Can’t get rid of us that easy, you know,” he murmurs.

     “Mmh. It would seem so, yeah.”

     “Group effort?”

_I’m so glad you’re alive._

_I’m so glad we found you._

And Caleb, with his clever mind and blue, blue eyes, hears it loud and clear, because once, he thought the same.

He smiles back. “Group effort.”

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta have a dramatic reunion kiss!  
> I'm sorry this story's taken the backseat, I've been lost in My Hero Academia the whole summer, but I still love these two so, so much.


	7. in separation

It’s so dark.

There was once a time when Caleb would have been grateful for such a cover. Easy to hide in the dark, steal and sneak around. _Be safe in the dark._ But this is heavy darkness, suffocating and it reeks of soil, death and decay.

_tick-tock_

The world is ready to break apart, and their time is running out. Across the valley, a dark god curls around a fortress, snarls at them, breathes hellfire and death and _they’re going to die._

Caleb stifles a violent shiver under his leather jacket. He feels small, _sickly._ No matter how much magic he has, no matter how many spells he has, ready to snap from his fingertips, to burn and tear and destroy, he’s still flesh and blood.

A mortal. They’re all mortals, so breakable and flesh and blood and _oh -_

This is not going to end well. Oh, how he knows.

 _Odds are not in our favour._ They haven’t been in a long while.

He hears someone step behind him. It’s not Beau or Yasha, who both have disappeared somewhere, he can hear Jester and Caduceus going through their potions and bags one last time, making sure everything is in order, it’s not Nott, who is staring at the fire, her eyes glazed and her fingers twitching around her flask.

But this presence Caleb recognizes instantly; tall, solid, _warm._ Caleb breathes out, a slow exhale and leans back against the familiar chest.

     “Penny for your thoughts, darlin’.”

Caleb laughs. It comes out tight, shallow. “No, I am betting you definitely do _not_ want to hear my thoughts at the moment.”

     “Uh huh. So, taking the fatalistic approach on this thing, huh,” Fjord drawls, and Caleb lets the deep baritone rumbling through him be a comfort.

They’re quiet for a moment, just watching the dark god’s writhing and screeching at the other end of the valley.

     “It looks quite... horrid.”

     “...yeah, that it does.”

     “We have to go there, Fjord.”

_For this plan to work -_

_We have to separate._

_You, with Yasha, Nott and Caduceus._

_Me, with Jester and Beau._

Fjord doesn’t quite tense behind him, but he reaches for Caleb’s hand. Slips his fingers through Caleb’s and grips back. Calloused and warm, and so, _so familiar._

     “Yeah. We do,” Fjord murmurs, leans in to brush his lips on Caleb’s throat, on the pale skin. 

It doesn’t make Caleb shiver, it’s merely a gentle press, a comfort. Caleb can feel the tusks gracing ever so slightly against his skin.

Sudden longing blossoms in Caleb’s chest, and at that moment, he wants and wants, wants to have a cottage by the seashore, wake up next to Fjord, the rest of their _days -_

_(fjord to smile and be happy and the glimmer of the sea, breeze and white sand, just quiet contentment of being alive and in love - )_

_(wants to see him grow old with him - )_

He wants that future with Fjord. He wants that so badly it nearly breaks him.

Their time is running out.

So he turns out to face Fjord - the lovely, handsome Fjord, who follows him intently under his eyebrows, the colour darkening around the edges of his irises into burnt amber.

Caleb’s poker face doesn’t exist with Fjord. He hasn’t tried it on for a while now. There hasn’t been any need for it, for pretense and masks and lies. Not anymore.

Fjord sees him as he is, deeply flawed and shattered, brave and stubborn and a _mess_ , and still he’s here, still he lowers his hands on Caleb’s waist and pulls him closer.

     “When we are finished here,” Caleb says, his voice so hoarse and painful, stumbling on _when_ and _if,_ and he hates himself for giving in, saying these hopes and dreams that he wants so desperately, “will you move to the sea side with me?”

Fjord’s eyebrows twitch in surprise, but then, his expression eases into a grin. All crooked and handsome, so incredibly fond, his fangs and tusks poking out, and it’s such a dear sight that Caleb nearly loses his breath.

     “Plannin’ on to retire, is that it?” he teases gently and combs Caleb’s hair back to the slim neck.

     “I... I think after everything, it would do good for weary souls, _ja_.”

Fjord cradles the side of Caleb’s face, admiring Caleb’s features in the dim, _dim_ light. Imprinting every detail into his memory. Every sun-kissed freckle. The fire’s shine on his hair. The sky blue of his eyes. The straight nose, the beard, the parted lips.  

_Everything._

     “Then don’t leave without me, Caleb,” he grunts and leans in to kiss him.

They have shared many kisses during these months, these years.

But this is the one that makes Caleb want to reach out and pull Fjord in, to protect him to his last, dying breath, makes him want to take Fjord away somewhere _safe,_ see him happy and content with life.

_(to see him graying and eyes crinkled and so, so happy - )_

They kiss slow as syrup, eager to enjoy every passing second. Every slide of tongues, tilting heads to accommodate each other, changing angles.

The kiss turns urgent, frantic, _time is running out, they know it is,_ desperate to keep each other close, but they have a _duty now -_

Caleb’s eyes burn under the closed lids, he grips Fjord closer by the lapels. It hurts to pull back, it hurts to breathe, the tips of their noses are touching, to keep each other as close as possible, their breathing mingling -

     “Don’t leave me behind, either, Fjord,” Caleb whispers back.

Fjord makes a wrecked, anguished sound in his throat, then catches himself. Swallowing thickly, he grunts out: “Be careful. For fuck’s sake, _please,_ be careful.” He nudges his nose into Caleb’s, nuzzling him so tenderly it creates a bone-deep ache in Caleb’s chest. “See you on the other side.”

And they let go. They have to do it now, or otherwise they will never do.

_Together or not at all._

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole ficlet series is so self-indulgent it's not even funny and I find it hard to be sorry about it :D  
> Sorry you have to suffer with me!  
> Thanks for reading!


	8. in a war’s aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final showdown and the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good lord, I'm having the worst writer's block like ever. I finally managed to do something about this chapter, pls take this trainwreck out of my hands.

Caleb’s lungs are burning. He tastes ash and blood, his head pounds with each frantic beat. He fumbles up, swaying and awfully disoriented. Everything is still _dark._ Why? Didn’t it work? Anxiously he glances around.

The castle has crumbled down, there’s fire and Caleb can make out dark red blood gushing between the stones. Well, that’s promising at least, he thinks, but it’s still too early, _far too early,_ to celebrate.

Caleb doesn’t trust hope like that.

     “Yo! _Caleb!_ You better be alive, asshole!” Beau’s voice shouts somewhere nearby, her voice nearly breaking in the middle, and Caleb lets out a relieved exhale.

     “Here, Beauregard - here! And alive so far, at least. You, are you all right?” he asks, when Beau stumbles in the view; her bun’s unravelled, strands sticking out in every direction, she’s covered with dust and dirt, but there’s a wild glint in her eyes.  

For a beat she doesn’t move - and then she grabs Caleb’s jacket and pulls him into a fierce hug.

     “You crazy fuckin’ asshole, you pulled some insane, legit shit there, and I _hate_ it, thank fuck you’re okay - got so fucking _reckless,_ what the fuck,” she hisses into his coat, but her voice sounds muffled, thick with something raw and vulnerable. “Gods _,_ I thought we were gonna die.”

Caleb accepts her embrace, grips her just as tightly and pats her back clumsily. “ _Ja,_ it - it looked dicey. Very dicey. Do you think it worked?”

Beau snorts weakly. “Don’t jinx it. Don’t even dare.” She draws another shaky breath, steadying herself. “ _Fuck._ Okay, I - I think we need to regroup - Jess?”

     “I’m heeeere!” a familiar voice sing-songs, and a face framed by wild blue curls pops up behind a boulder. “Are you hurt? Do you need healing? I still got energy for one...”

     “Nah, I’m good. Caleb? Any under that coat of yours? And don’t bullshit me, tell us straight.”

To be honest, Caleb isn’t sure. His head is pounding, adrenaline still burns in his bloodstream, he’s too on edge to even realize if he’s hurting or not. He feels too tight and trembling in his skin, too strung up, jittery.  

     “I - I do not think so, _nein._ We can worry about scrapes later, we - we need to make sure, for once and all - “

Even as he’s saying it, Caleb can feel the doubt and panic crawl back in, ice cold and razor sharp.

Did it work? Is the corrupted god dead? Are the others - ?

_(dead, dead on the ground - )_

_Nein, stop thinking about it, you fool -_

     “Yeah, we gotta keep moving, like now. C’mon, let’s go find others.”

But Beau links her arm with Caleb’s, and he appreciates her silent support as they wade through the rubble and thick, _thick_ darkness.

He’s not sure if it’s faded now a little; it’s still hard to see, air’s heavy with smoke and crackling arcane energy, storm and death, but he hopes - oh, he _hopes_ -

\- _please be enough -_

     “Nott?” Beau barks out. “Caddy?”

No response. Her fingers dig deeper in Caleb’s arm.

Caleb’s heart starts to hammer louder. _Thump-thump_ \- _please answer -_

Faintly he can make out the fallen, limp figure near the crumbled castle, and it doesn’t seem like the god is moving, but - _but what if -_

     “That’s Caduceus,” Beau breathes, squinting ahead.

_What about Fjord,_ Caleb wants to ask, _is Fjord all right, and Nott -_

But then... Caleb hears it. And he wishes that he wouldn’t have.

The rubble shifts.

The stones crumble down, the castle pillars collapse and shatter, and the whole frozen ground _breathes._

Under it all, the tall thin, tainted figure rises up, _up,_ as a terrifying shadow, so monstrous and inhumanly mangled that Caleb’s whole body locks up in panic.

_No. Nein, nein, nein -_

Many things happen at once.

     “ _WATCH OUT!”_ Beau roars, grabbing her staff, and the god screeches - it’s voice piercing through ear drums. _“CALEB, MOVE, MOVE!”_

The god turns it’s skeletal head toward them. Toward _him._

As if it knows.

It’s a god, thinks Caleb numbly, stupidly, _of course it knows._

The god’s gaze sears through Caleb, and he has a chilling feeling that it really does see every single thing about him, every secret, everything that he loves and hates and _despairs - it knows because it is a god -_  

_But - is it?_

_Wait._

Caleb blinks through exhausted haze.

It’s twisted and corrupted _,_ but bound to mortal flesh, decayed and shriveling, but still mortal -

Caleb’s breathing hitches. An idea forms in his head, tiny and crystal clear and so terribly fragile. 

He’s still got energy for _one._ For one spell. One that he’s been saving, for situations like this -

     “Beauregard,” he rasps out, and magic lights his fingers on blue fire, beautiful and bright.

Beau turns toward him, her jaw dropping. “Caleb - ?”

She sounds so very, _very_ young.  

     “Take cover,” he says, and his own voice sounds unfamiliar and far away, too ethereal to his own ears.

In the faint glow of his magic, Beau pales ghostly white. “Wait, _what?_ What are you going to do?” Now she’s not even pretending, she’s terrified. “ _Caleb - ?”_

Caleb doesn’t listen.

He presses his index finger and middle finger to his chapped lips, kissing them in memory -

_“like this?” he asked fjord once upon a time, a comfort against fire, when he was gone,_

_“here, shoot ‘em like a gun, see?” “and i am supposed to know what it is” -_

_i’m doing this for you, Liebling -_

_“don’t leave me behind, either, fjord”_

_I’m so sorry, so sorry, dear,_ he thinks wildly and breathes through smoke, death, agony and _magic,_ the Power Word burns on his tongue -

\- and he whispers the Power into life.

He can’t blink, he can’t even move, he watches the god, curls his fingers into a cage and thinks _Die._

The magic tears through him _;_ it shoots white lightning from his fingertips and illuminates the broken battle field eerie white. Caleb’s fragile body hurts, _it hurts, he doesn’t even realize he’s screaming,_ he’s just watching the god, _that’s it, kill it, i have to kill it - !_

Many things happen at once.

The old magic shoots toward the god, twists around it’s body like shackles, branding onto the wrinkly, hanging skin, and it _howls._

The ground shakes.

Every nerve on Caleb’s body is on fire, he can’t _blink -_ the magic whirls around him, lighting him like a beacon fire, _just hold on -_

He thinks he can hear everyone else screaming, but it’s all vague and fuzzy, he can barely hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears - _just a little bit more - just a little bit -_

His skin is on fire. The coat of his jacket is on fire.

He’s on fire, but he just has to _hold on -_

The god shrieks and screams and it hurts to listen, but the shackles and chains burn themselves into it’s whole being and oh, _yes,_ Caleb can see it and he wills it to work, _work for the last time -_

The god gurgles, and it’s an awful, broken sound, and then -

\- it slumps on the ground.

Caleb’s distantly aware he’s hyperventilating, it hurts to breathe -

     “ _JESTER - PUT IT OUT, PUT THE FIRE OUT, HE’S IN THERE - PUT IT OUT!”_

     “ - _I’M TRYING, I’M TRYING!”_

_“WE NEED WATER! FJORD, USE YOUR OWN, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”_

Hysterical screaming, Caleb can’t, he can’t even move -

Then, it’s over _._

The fire fades into embers, and the horrible brightness is gone and for a moment Caleb thinks he might have gone blind.

Slowly, silhuettes bleed into his vision, and everything adjusts. The feeling returns to his limbs, and he’s too aware of everything, the darkness fading, the blood, the dirt, how every muscle in his body hurts and _Fjord -_

Fjord looks absolutely haggard and wild, blood trickles down his temple, but his feverish eyes are completely fixed on Caleb.

He opens his mouth, but swallows, his hand twitching up toward Caleb’s face. “Caleb?” he says, ragged. “ _Cay...”_

Something warm and sweet flares in Caleb’s chest, and suddenly he feels so bare.

     “We did it,” he breathes out, “it’s _done.”_

     “It is,” Fjord says brokenly and can’t help himself; he runs his thumb across Caleb’s chin to his jawline, to his lips, and drops to rest his head against Caleb’s forehead, “you did it. Fuck, you were amazing, darlin’, I can’t even believe - “

     “He’s dead, is he not, is everyone - _Beau,_ Nott _-_ is everyone- “

     “Yeah, yeah, it’s dead, and we’re all good - but _you,_ you were on _fire,_ Caleb, that was - “

     “I had to use it, I did not know how it would work on a _god,_ b - but it did - and you, are you all right - you’re hurt - “

     “Nah, s’nothing, I’m fine - let me look at you - “

Caleb stops and gazes back at him, at this man he loves with every fiber of his being. This man, this half-orc. Through the years, conflicts and arguments and reconciliations and fierce, _fierce_ love and devotion for each other, they’re finally here.

They have done their duty, they have spent everything they have to protect others, and they’re still reeling with the brutal force of it all.

     “You did not leave without me,” Caleb murmurs, his trembling hands smoothing Fjord’s lapels, down to his chest, and under the wet leathers and armor, he can feel the strong beat of Fjord’s heart.

_Strong, alive, so gloriously alive._

Fjord looks surprised for a split second, then he laughs, a little wetly. “Nah, I kinda figured this whole retirement thing sounds way better with a scruffy wizard by my side,” he says with a trembling grin of his own.

Caleb’s eyes crinkle. “ _Ja?”_

     “Uh huh, definitely. Hey,” Fjord murmurs, his thumb brushing Caleb’s cheekbone so heartbreakingly gently, and his darkened gaze drinks Caleb in, like he’s starved for all of it. “By the seashore, ain’t that what you told me, huh?”

     “I asked,” Caleb says smiling, and it comes out breathless and wet. He can’t help it; he nearly staggers under all the overwhelming relief that courses through him. “It is what I _asked - “_

A hazy dream that he’s wanted so desperately, what Fjord told him years ago on the beach of Port Damali, and now -

_It’s possible._ It’s finally possible, after everything they’ve been through and what they’ve done.

Caleb’s dizzy. He can barely comprehend it. It’s done, they have _done it._  

They have done their part for this wretched, awful world.

     “You did,” Fjord says, and now his deep baritone cracks. “’n I have no intention of refusing you.”

     “Yeah?”

     “Hmm-mmh. Quite frankly it’s something I’ve been wantin’ for a long while now.”

Caleb’s chest heaves. _This person -_

Fjord shifts instinctively forward and leans in to brush his nose against Caleb’s, nuzzling into his hair. His other hand cards the mahogany curls back to Caleb’s neck, then squeezing the nape of his neck.

The gesture is so tender, so intimate in it’s simplicity that it makes Caleb’s breath hitch in his throat.

So he leans into Fjord and finally their chapped mouths meet.

It’s not a clean kiss; they’re both grimy and exhausted to the very bone marrow, they taste blood and dirt and their noses smush together at an awkward angle, but they’re breathing through it, _alive._  

_Finally._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gave me so much trouble, oh my gosh.   
> This is also the chapter where I pretend to know anything about D&D and also where I took artistic liberties :D   
> Thanks for reading!


	9. in drunkenness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man, that last episode was seriously amazing. holy shit. and it was full of moments that made me as a widofjord shipper VERY happy :D

If Caleb’s being honest, he’s surprised how he’s handling this.

Which means, not that well.

Usually he doesn’t drink for this purpose. He does _drink -_ sometimes, but now, he’s honestly surprised to find that his vision is blurry around the edges, and he’s having hard time actually focusing on anything.

Except Fjord.

Good, handsome, reliable Fjord, who is still on his second pint of ale, and by the looks of things, but Caleb can’t be that sure, he looks _amused._

      “How’re we doing, buddy?” Fjord asks, his voice a warm rumble, his lips twitching into a grin.

_He really is unfairly handsome,_ Caleb thinks to himself. “ _Ja,_ fine, just fine,” he hears himself answer, and to his dismay, the words are a bit slurred. Well, that’s not good. He frowns.

     “Uh huh. You’re, uh - keeping a brisk pace there.”

     “It is a cele - celebratory drink,” Caleb answers and is a little proud that he manages to pronounce it somewhat correctly. At least, he thinks it’s correctly. He has his doubts, however, when Fjord chuckles.

     “That’s a big word, nice. Remember to drink water, too, otherwise that fancy big brain o’ yours is gonna have bad time tomorrow.”

     “Mmh.” Caleb blinks slowly. “I like you a lot, Fjord.”

Fjord pauses in between a swig to glance at him. “Yeah?” he asks carefully, but Caleb is too preoccupied watching the tavern’s fireplace.

     “Mmh. I don’t know why you are surprised. You are very pleasant,” he hums and twirls his pint in his fingers. “Very sensible - _reizend, so viel -_ and I trust you.”

Fjord stares at him. His throat twitches as he swallows. “You do?”

     “ _Ja -_ but I thought I should not since the High Richtor’s house - “

Fjord makes a pained sound. “Caleb - “

     “ - but then everything happened, and I _do._ I - don’t exactly know if that makes me a - a _dummkopf,_ but I do, and now I am very glad that I do.” Caleb smiles, all lazy and soft. The fireplace’s flames warm his skin, paint a golden outline on his features.

Fjord’s watching him, his expression stunned.  

     “You - you never told me...”

That makes Caleb pause. “Oh. I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

     “ _No!_ No, you didn’t - hey - “ Fjord hurries to scoot his chair closer, their knees bumping together. “Hey, you didn’t make me anything. I - I know it was a fucked up situation and I didn’t handle it well, but... I trust you, too, Caleb. I’m glad you’re with us.” He hesitates. “With - with me.”

Caleb tilts his head, and a slow, honey-sweet smile curls on his lips. It feels strange, to feel so openly, being so _bare,_ and not hide behind a mask and the dirt, but now, he’s content, for the first time in a while.

( _it’s a bad idea,_ the small, sober part of him points out, but Caleb is a selfish bastard and allows this one moment of enjoyment to himself.)

     “I like you,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Very much.”

Fjord’s eyes widen, and a dark flush spreads on his cheeks. “Uh, very kind of you, Caleb,” he grunts, flustered. Then he sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “But y’know, I’d appreciate it way more if you told me that when you’re not hammered half-way to the next week.”

Caleb blinks. “You think I am lying.”

     “Not lying, but alcohol makes most people say all kinds of stuff.”

A fair point, but Caleb is not ‘most people’.

     “I told you,” he says quietly, “I remember everything. I _know_ what I am saying and whom I am saying it to. The difference between the drunk me and the sober me is that I actually have the courage to say things to you now.”

His head lolls, and the tavern’s walls are oddly fuzzy now. Fjord shifts, his shoulders tensing and his fingers twitching around the mug.

     “Are you scared of me, Caleb?” he asks hesitantly, his voice dropping low and vulnerable.

     “No,” Caleb says instantly, “I am not. I am scared what you will think of me.”

The words are out before his sluggish brain catch them, and ice cold sensation grips his chest. It is the truth, he’s _terrified._ It’s awful enough that Nott and Beau know about his past, blood soaked and twisted and so, so _ugly,_ but he can’t bear it if Fjord knew.

_What he would think, he would turn away in disgust and he would **hate** Caleb - _ 

It’s a painful spiral into familiar darkness. He doesn’t deserve friendship. He doesn’t deserve love. He doesn’t deserve a damn thing -

\- _you were a kid, Caleb, they used you,_ Beau’s voice echoes somewhere from his memory.

     “Caleb. Hey. Look at me?”

Caleb does. Fjord holds his gaze, warm amber yellow and rich, and slowly, Caleb relaxes in his seat. 

     “Everyone’s got ghosts and fucked up mistakes they wanna undo,” Fjord says, and the deep rumble of his voice vibrates through Caleb. It’s a very reassuring sensation. “But I’ve known you for a while now. Hell, I’ve _seen_ you. You’ve done your best, you’ve done _good,_ and you’re a damn good friend. We can only do our best, Caleb.”

     “B - but if you _knew - “_

     “When - or if - you wanna tell me, I’m here. But fuck, Caleb - you’ve seen all the shit I put everyone through back on Darktow. How could I ever judge anyone?”

     “But it’s different. It is, I _did_ that, I _knew_ what I was doing - “

_Scheiße, I’m babbling,_ Caleb thinks furiously and takes another swig. Before he says too much and ruins everything. Or not, perhaps he should just go - so Caleb rises up to his feet and sways, his hand gripping the table.

Instinctively Fjord follows in case Caleb falters.

     “I think - I think I might be ver - very drunk,” he says. The room is hazy. “I apologize for - for saying so much - “

     “No,” Fjord replies, stepping closer, and Caleb angles his head up to look at him. The scar across Fjord’s mouth, the steady golden glint in his eyes. He can feel the familiar warmth, the comforting presence of him _._ “You didn’t. You need help?”

     “ _Nein,_ I - “

The Universe decides to work against Caleb in that precise moment, because as soon as he tries to move toward the stairs, he stumbles, and Fjord hurries to catch him before he hits the floor.

     “Easy! Easy, c’mon, up we go...”

     “’m not a _child...”_

     “Nah, I know. But it’s easier this way.”

‘This way’ apparently means carrying a drunk wizard up the stairs bridal style. Caleb considers this a moment, but accepts his fate with a sigh. It’s not that bad. In fact, it’s quite nice. Fjord is warm and safe, and after a beat of hesitation, Caleb rests his head on Fjord’s shoulder.

_just for a moment._

     “...thank you,” he murmurs against the leather of Fjord’s armor.

     “For what?”

     “For...indulging me, among other things.”

Above him, Fjord scowls. “You know you’re important to us, right? That we’re not keeping you around just because you can throw fire balls? Like no two words ‘bout that shit.”

Caleb stiffens. That - that’s exactly what he’s thought.

     “You’re not, then?” he finally asks.

     “Fuck no. You’re stuck with us, Widogast,” Fjord says, grinning, and the tips of his tusks poke out. It looks a bit odd, but in the same time so open and endearing that Caleb realizes he’s smiling back.

     “No offense, but I - I think you might end up regretting that.”

     “Yeah, well, I’m just saying. We’ve seen some seriously disturbing shit together, shit that’s not so easy to just discard, and we’ve come out of those situations alive, _together._ So good fuckin’ luck trying to get rid of us after all that.” 

Caleb can’t figure out a proper response to that. He just murmurs: “ _Ja,_ okay.”

He feels comfortable in Fjord’s arms. Heavy exhaustion settles over him like a blanket, he feels like he’s dissolving under it, his eyelids droop down sleepily, and he doesn’t even realize he’s nodding off until Fjord sets him on the bed.

     “ _Danke,_ Fjord,” he slurs, shifting on the mattress to peer at him. “You are a - a good one.” 

Fjord grunts gruffly, runs his fingers through Caleb’s hair in a rare display of affection and leans in to brush his lips gently on the top of Caleb’s head.

      “Back at you,” he murmurs back. “Sleep tight, Cay.”

+


End file.
